


temptation

by aelins



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Action/Adventure, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Elain Archeron/Azriel Fluff, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, I repeat angst, Minor Character Death, POV Azriel (ACoTaR), POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Pregnancy, Suicidal Thoughts, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unresolved Emotional Tension, ok the beginning is REALLY sad., ready? lets gooooo, there are a lot of scenery porn things in later chapters !
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26254345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aelins/pseuds/aelins
Summary: When the Illyrian's strike the House of Wind and Azriel is forced to make a decision that might save the one woman he could have a future with, and damn himself. After a loss, Azriel decides that things need to change. There's a secret being kept in the Autumn Court that might tear Azriel and Elain asunder.His cheeks are sticky and slippery with tears, the grief consuming him whole.  Elain whispers sweet things to him, tells him that she is with the maker now, and she will be alright. But that’s not how this should’ve ended. Azriel shushes Elain, and in his desperation to not feel like the world is ending, he rests his forehead against hers. “It was sweet of you to stay with me.” Azriel’s voice is a torn, scratchy mess.Azriel could be cruel when he desired, and he’d been so sure that being struck by lightning, and releasing his killing power would kill him… he wonders if it would’ve been a mercy to die. To die rather than continue on with no hope.There had never been much hope for him, and now there was even less.ABANDONED
Relationships: Elain Archeron/Azriel
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	temptation

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, here we go, I have no idea how long this going to be, but I'm going to assume at least 5 chapters? Let's hope it's not more than that ! My beta is sweetlyvillainous on tumblr! 
> 
> [JOIN THE 18+ SJM WRITERS DISCORD!](https://discord.gg/9EFYA7g)

Azriel 

The Court of Dreamers. A court for those who look to the stars and wish. Azriel was pondering what it would mean when the Illyrians chose to strike Velaris. His foot tapped in his kitchen, while he filled a deep mug with water. It’d been a difficult training day, Cassian still thought after so many years that he could best his friend. It was hilarious. 

Azriel had a ruthless streak several acres wide. He was the spymaster, the knife in the dead of night. Cassian had more brute strength but—his thoughts were interrupted by a whispering shadow. 

_ Elain, in trouble. _

The shadow was a hoarse whisper in his ear, and he knew it was bad and could feel the dread pooling in his gut. He raced to the roof of his townhouse taking the stairs three at a time, and his wings burst from his back with a defiant snap as he barreled into the sky. 

She must be at the House of Wind. The thought of Elain in trouble was more than he could bear. Was she being attacked? Though things were strange between him and Elain, he refused to let her be hurt due to his inaction. 

He sweeps down on the terrace, the sunstone heated from the previous day’s torturous heat, and breaks into a run, long powerful legs carrying him at top speed. Sure enough, Rhys was fighting and his power was everywhere. How had Azriel gotten the message so late? His shadows were usually the first to inform him of such a catastrophe, and surely Elain would have reached out… his shadows understood the bond between them, even if they hadn’t acknowledged it. 

His mind snaps back to the present as an angry Illyrian barreled at him. Azriel sent the bastard flying with a punch to the jaw. The anger and adrenaline rushing through his veins made him see red. 

He didn’t have his siphons. The specific brand of killing power that flowed through Azriel’s veins would surely consume them. 

Azriel had two choices, fight hand to hand—to not use his magic at all, and watch his friends be torn asunder by his own people—or do the unthinkable. 

_ He could unleash the killing power in his veins.  _

Cassian’s blood was flowing freely on the terrace, they were trying to prevent the Illyrians from getting to Elain. Azriel could tell, after years of fighting grim battles at Rhys side, that his power was depleted. Feyre, his High Lady, was slumped over and barely breathing. 

Elain was screaming for him. She needed him. He had no idea where she was, likely locked up in some room or another in the House. He suspected she was trapped with an Illyrian warrior. He would have to sacrifice, he would have to bleed again and again for his home and his court. 

A bone-deep weariness filled Azriel’s mind, he’d done such horrid things his whole life and it weighed on him like the press of darkness. 

Elain would have him, in this life and the next, even if he gave his life for hers. 

A burst of thunder and a crack of lightning find him, and then the electricity is flowing through him, spreading the killing power to every corner of the mountain. He was sure no one would make it out alive. He was so sure, and yet, there was peace and light and hope in this ending. 

_ Finally _ an end to his suffering. 

*~*~* 

His body feels heavy like his limbs were made of stone. His nerves feel like they’d been deep-fried. The world comes into weary focus and he inhales, what feels like his first breath in days. 

“You’re an idiot,” He’d know that voice in hell, in death itself he would know her sweet voice. It is not sweet right now though. 

“Am I now?” Azriel’s voice is hoarse with disuse, and he can barely see, the force of his power being unleashed had left him with a blistering headache. 

“Spymaster, you’re the greatest fool I have ever met.” His vision sharpens, and he realizes she’s standing over him, tears splashing down her cheeks. 

“Oh really?” He can feel his heart sinking and he knows this is the part where he tells her everyone but them is dead. 

“You inflamed a war.” Elain sits down on his bed and takes a cool, damp cloth to his forehead. She seems hesitant to be too close to him and yet… they long for each other as they always have. “The Illyrians are flying here now,” the light scoff in her voice nearly deceives him. Maybe she doesn’t care, but then again she doesn’t know the truth, his gut churns with the knowledge of their bond. 

“Elain,” he begins to protest. Seeing her in her mourning clothes was difficult. She was wearing all black and had a black veil pulled back from her face. “W-Who’s l—“

“Who’s left?” She sounds irritated, “ _Everyone but Morrigan_.” 

Morrigan. Sweet Mor. “She’s…  _ gone _ ?” Azriel asked, his voice quiet and hurt. 

Elain nodded sadly. “Rhys is devastated, he hasn’t spoken since yesterday, we think he might be in shock. So are Feyre and Amren. The whole Court of Dreams is in mourning. The rogue Illyrians…” 

He held up a hand, to stop any further description. Azriel was falling, free-falling through misery and pain. His heart had been wrenched from his body just as surely as if Rhys had plucked it like a ripe berry from his chest. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this was the end of things as he knew them. Velaris had been outed as a safe haven and the place he’d called home for three hundred years was going to crumble to the ground if this was allowed to continue. It had been sixty years since he’d cried. The night they’d gotten the message that Rhysand was being taken by Amarantha, and the subsequent rumors that he was being used as a sex slave had made Azriel’s usually frosty demeanor melt into liquid acid. He’d cried for his brother in all but blood and  _ Mor  _ had comforted him. But Mor was gone. 

He was awash in memories, good and bad. Elain curled into his side and she held him as he wept, for his friend, for the one who had been the biggest dreamer of them all, for Rhys’ loss and for his own failure. 

_ He’d killed her. _ Just as surely as a killing blow from Truth Teller, he’d killed the only woman he’d ever loved. What was between him and Elain was a complicated, tangled web of emotion. Morrigan had been lost to his desire to save another woman. She hadn’t deserved that, no one did. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was his fault. He’d been so reckless, so desperate to save his true mate; months ago the bond between Lucien and Elain had dissolved, and a new one had solidified between him and the female at his side, now silently weeping herself. 

His cheeks are sticky and slippery with tears, the grief consuming him whole. Elain whispers sweet things to him, tells him that she is with the maker now, and she will be alright. But that’s not how this should’ve ended. Azriel shushes Elain, and in his desperation to not feel like the world is ending, he rests his forehead against hers. “It was sweet of you to stay with me.” Azriel’s voice is a torn, scratchy mess. 

Azriel could be cruel when he desired, and he’d been so sure that being struck by lightning, and releasing his killing power would kill him… he wonders if it would’ve been a mercy to die. To die rather than continue on with no hope. 

_ There had never been much hope for him _ , and now there was even less. 

There’s a knock on the door and the person on the other side is wise enough to resist opening the door until Elain can pull herself away from him, and can open it for the visitor. 

Cassian’s head of rich brown hair appears in his vision. His voice is soft and understanding in a way only Cassian can be. “You know she wouldn’t have wanted you to sit in here shut away. Mor would want you out there doing your best to catch her killer. She wouldn’t want one of the hard days to win.” 

Azriel’s voice shakes when he speaks, “ _ I’m _ her killer, I have no right.” The blistering grief in Azriel’s voice is undeniable. 

Cassian smiles sadly, “No, you’re not and if she’d have heard you say that she would have ripped your balls—“ 

Elain made a quelling noise, at the way Azriel turned his head away. 

“Don’t turn your back, not on me, not on her,” Cassian’s voice was shattered glass, cracked and raw. 

“Tell me what happened,” Azriel asked. 

“The Illyrians caught us at dinner, Mor was dead before we’d even known they were in the House of Wind, the wards had been shattered—the Illyrians are working with the Queens. The Mortal Queens made sure we were caught unaware.” 

Azriel snarled, low and feral in his throat. 

Cassian held up a hand, “They murdered her for her power.” 

Azriel paled, “Her truth power?” 

“Of course,” Cassian said sadly, shifting his shoulders as if a great weight rested on them, “It’s the only way we could’ve interrogated them fairly, with her power. They don’t want to be questioned,  _ they want to be martyred _ .” 

Azriel was off the bed, and heading out the door, with Truth-Teller strapped to his thigh in what seemed like less than a second. A powerful hand caught his shoulder. “Don’t give them the death they desire.” He knew Cassian meant  _ torture _ . An unwelcome pang of anger bolts through Azriel at the command that lies unspoken between them. Cassian was a man on the edge, Azriel knew it. 

Cassian held Azriel in a brotherly hug, and after they’d said their goodbyes, Azriel conceded to Cassian’s order which he assumed had come directly from their High Lord. Azriel wonders if Rhysand is hanging on, as Cassian was, or if things were bad enough to be fearful for Rhysand’s sanity. The man had endured so much. It was unfair in the extreme that his High Lord, the man who’d given him everything, including his home and the affection of a brother; had come to this. 

Azriel was so tired of this game. The game of loss, and losing those he loved. He wanted to maim—to kill. Elain gave him a quick, short nod as if she understood his desperation, which maybe she did. 

“I’m going to find her killer, and I’m going to spill their blood.” 


End file.
